One Hell of a Night
by Mad Childe Dru
Summary: One way to remedy the problem left by the season 5 finale. (Won a Watching You Award for Best Short Fanfiction)


Disclaimer: I own NOTHING. Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, The WB, and now UPN have everything. And I have absolutely no money so don't bother suing me.  
  
  
Author's Notes: the little transition parts were all verses taken out of the  
book **RUBAIYAT OF OMAR KHAYYAM**.  
  
  
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_Then to the rolling Heav'n itself I cried,  
Asking, "What Lamp had Destiny to guide  
Her little Children stumbling in the Dark?"  
And- "A blind understanding!" Heav'n replied._  
  
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Overhead the night sky sparkled with the flittering light of stars. Cool  
moisture hung in the air along with the intensity of the situation before him.  
He held himself at the edge, taking light, and unneeded breaths, just to  
smell the air. He was still - motionless - as he let the breeze caress his  
body and tease his messy blond hair. Without opening his eyes, he spoke,  
"You sure about this Peaches?"  
The answer was a nod - one time, barely perceptible. But his demon sensed  
it, as it did the impending danger. With a last rush of air to taste the  
night air for what he was nearly certain would be his last time.... Spike  
jumped.  
  
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Again he was motionless, though this time while lying face down on the  
ground. Groaning, he pushed himself up,  
"Sod could've told me to bleeding tuck and roll..." he growled,  
straightening his beloved duster. Someone spoke from him.  
"Good evening, sir," Spike whipped around to face him, eyes flashing, "To  
what do we owe this," an eyebrow raised, "_pleasant_ surprise?"  
Spike began snickering at the starched Englishman's trumped up  
appearance,  
"Mr. Bloody Belvedere..." he shook his head in amusement. The being  
before him did not join in his humor.  
"Quite," he responded dryly, "You may refer to me as the Valet."  
Spike nodded, "Right, Jeeves," he was on the receiving end of that look  
again, "So tell me- where do a bloke go 'round here for a good, ol'  
fashioned resurrection?"  
"Ah, I see. You are looking to grant yourself a second chance at life?  
I'm quite sorry," the valet motioned to the doorway that had appeared, glad  
to be rid of this annoyance, "but we don't do that." Spike remained still,  
"S' not for me," the Valet glanced back at him, "S' for the Nibblet."  
"I'm afraid I don't un-"  
"Buffy Summers," Spike cut him off, "the last slayer. Kicked it doing the  
whole sacred duty bit," he tried to sound casual while he lit up a cigarette  
pulled from his pocked," Got sent to get her mojo back from the beyond.  
Somethin' 'bout a champion or some such for the Trials."  
The Valet gazed at him with increasing interest,  
"A soulless demon seeking to resurrect a slayer?"  
Spike ignored his mocking tone,  
"Can it be done, mate?" The Valet's gaze never left Spike,  
"Are you willing to give the ultimate sacrifice for the slayer of your  
kind?"  
Spike shrugged before he replied, his throat thick,  
"I'd stop breathing for her," the irony of the statement hit him and he  
smirked, "In a manner of speaking." The Valet grimaced and mumbled under his  
breath,  
"Everyone's a comedian. So," he began, speaking up again, "You will  
accept the three challenges we set out before you and understand that only if  
all three tasks are completed will she be allowed life?"  
Spike put out his cigarette on the heel of his boot, "What are these  
challenges?"  
The Valet smirked this time, "They will be revealed to you in time."  
"Figures," Spike muttered, glaring at him.  
The Valet's smirk merely widened to a smile,  
"Your shirt, sir." Spike raised an eyebrow.  
"Before you enter I shall require your shirt, coat, shoes, and socks."  
Spike stared him down, unmoving for a minute, before he realized he truly  
wasn't going in with his duster.  
"Bloody hell," he swore while removing his clothing and tossing them at  
the being before him, "Anything happens to my clothes and I'll...actually,  
sod the clothes. Damage my coat and I'll feed you your own spleen." The Valet  
ignored the empty threat while waiting for Spike to kick off his shoes.  
Once Spike stood before him, barefoot and clad only in his jeans, the  
Valet spoke again,  
"You may begin your first challenge anytime you wish," on his words a  
door appeared and the Valet vanished.  
  
  
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_Ah, make the most of what we yet may spend,  
Before we too into the Dust Descend;  
Dust to Dust, and under Dust, to lie,  
Sans Wine, sans Song, sans Singer and - sans End!_  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
  
Spike cautiously stepped through the first door and spun as it  
disappeared.  
"Bloody wonderful..." he grumbled to himself, his eyes roving the wall  
for another exit.  
The demon within him tensed and he turned to face a vicious looking demon  
as it charged him, armed with just as wicked a looking sword. Ducking just in  
time, Spike used the shoulder he had down to launch himself into his horned,  
green foe.  
The fight raged with intensity the green beast before Spike had seen  
previously only once, until Spike managed to pin and hold his enemy to the  
wall. He growled and roughly sank his fangs into the demon's neck - drinking  
deeply until he felt the struggle leave it.  
Spike pulled back, grinning maniacally while the limp body fell to the  
floor. He leaned down and tore a strip of material from the demon's trousers  
and used it to wipe the blood off his now human features.  
Spike grinned as he cleaned up, "Jeeves didn't mention it'd be fun..."  
Dropping the rag to the ground, he turned to look for the next door. When  
none appeared he frowned.  
"Strange..." the demon within again screamed at him to duck and he  
obliged, tossing the again charging demon over his shoulder and onto the  
ground.  
"So it's like that, is it?" He looked around, quickly surveying his  
surroundings for something to incapacitate the monster before he was again  
rushed.  
The battle continued for some time before Spike bested the creature. He  
took the beast apart piece by piece with his bare hands - knowing enough to  
chain it's legs to one wall and it's torso and what was left of it's head to  
another.  
He stepped back, surveying his work with a sadistic grin while the demon  
struggled against its bonds until the second door appeared. He winked at the  
demon as he walked away,  
"S' been fun."  
  
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_  
Ah! my Beloved, fill the cup that clears  
TO-DAY of past Regrets and future Fears-  
TOMORROW?- Why, To-morrow I may be  
Myself with Yesterday's Sev'n Thousand Years._  
  
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Again Spike stood motionlessly, gazing into the long corridor stretched  
out before him,  
"This is just bloody ridicules," he murmured, his eyes skimming across  
the hundreds of crosses that covered the floor, walls, and ceiling of the  
elongated room and came to a rest on the alter, also covered with crosses,  
that supported a large bowl obviously filled with holy water.  
He stood. Very appreciative of the fact that no time limit had been set  
on this challenge. Then a grin slowly spread across his face.  
"Right glad I didn't go commando today," he mumbled, working the buckle  
on his belt. When he got his pants off, he carefully spread them out on the  
floor in front of him before stepping on top of them.  
Slowly, he began shuffling his way towards the bowl near the end of the  
room until he was peering over the edge, careful not to touch the alter.  
"Damn," he gazed at the key in the bottom of the bowl, "It ain't gettin'  
any closer, mate," he murmured to himself in an attempt to bolster his  
courage, and then took a deep breath and hastily reached in the bowl.  
"Grraaghh!!" He howled, but a wicked smile crossed his face while he  
grasped the key in victory. He began shuffling towards the door again,  
ignoring the throbbing in his hand and focusing on the fact he was on his way  
to the third trial...and then...Buffy.  
  
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The Valet smiled as he watched the scene unfold. He liked this one. Smart  
fellow - inventive. Oh, he was a definite keeper. Good cause, too. Nothing  
like the last champion to complete the trials. He really hoped this one made  
it through the last.  
The Valet straightened his jacket - it was almost time for his big  
entrance.  
  
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Spike stepped through the last door and quickly slid his jeans back on.  
Looking up he saw....nothing. A whole lotta nothing. He frowned. It was the  
things you couldn't see you should fear the most. He knew. He was one of them  
long ago.  
He took a step forward, but no sooner had he moved, chains shot out and  
gripped his wrists and ankles, holding him fast in a sort of spread eagle  
position. He pulled at his binding to no avail and swore profusely until he  
was cut off by the sound of one set of hands clapping.  
The Valet came to a stop directly in front of him.  
"Good show thus far, William," Spike growled in response, "You've truly  
earned this..."  
"Earned what?" The vampire was seething.  
"...A chance to end this now," The Valet replied, almost sadly, "You  
could leave now, no harm, no foul."  
"Buffy live?" The Valet shook his head, "No deal. Bring on the third  
challenge."  
"Well, William-"  
"Spike!" He hated the way this ponce was talkin' him down...almost worse  
than bloody Angelus.  
"Er...Spike...you see, the third challenge is...well..." The Valet  
stepped aside, "death."  
There were so many of them. Thousands. Spike had never seen so many in  
all his life. The Valet had moved and given him a clear and unrestricted view  
of a wall full of stakes. His throat constricted and he blinked a few times.  
"I...I just....die?" He was truly confused. How could this be the end?  
"Yes," The Valet moved in front of him again, "Accepting your own  
mortality...giving your life for another to restore the balance...that's  
truly the ultimate challenge..." he leaned in conspiratorially, "I asked you  
when you began..." he paused before leaning back, "However, if you should so  
decide you may walk away now...you've earned that much."  
Spike shook his head, "No...I can't...have to.." He shook it again to  
clear it, "Let's just...let's just do this." He closed his eyes and prayed  
for the Nibblet to understand his broken promise of returning.  
"Are you...certain?" The Valet asked anxiously.  
"Bloody just do it," he replied through clenched teeth.  
The Valet nodded, "It is done." He disappeared.  
  
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_Oh, come with old Khayyam, and leave the Wise  
To talk; one thing is certain, that Life flies;  
One thing is certain, and the Rest is Lies;  
The Flower that once has blown for ever dies._  
  
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When he reappeared in the main room, a hazel-eyed blond stood before him  
in a dazed wonder.  
"H-How...?"  
"Welcome back, young lady," he responded fondly. He had heard of this  
brave young slayer and was glad she had been given back her world. Slowly, he  
reached up and lightly placed his fingertips on her temples.  
Buffy's eyes widened as her mind flooded with all that had occurred since  
her death, up until the point she saw Spike give up his life for her.  
She gasped and stepped back to see the Valet's kind smile only a second  
before Spike landed at her feet.  
Slowly, sapphire eyes trailed upwards to meet hazel.  
"Slayer?"  
"Good show, man. Bloody good show."  
  
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_'Tis all a Chequer-board of Nights and Days  
Where Destiny with Men for Pieces plays:  
Hither and thither moves, and mates, and slays,  
And one by one back in the Closet lays._  
  
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The trio stood in front of the door to the magic shop.  
"Ready?" Angel asked anxiously. Buffy nodded.  
"Right, let's do this," the brunette took a step towards the door, but  
was stopped by the sound of her voice,  
"Wait..." he turned to face her, "Umm..." she stared at her own shoe  
toeing the ground, "Could you maybe give me just a second-"  
"Say no more. Come on, Spike. We'll leave you al-"  
"No," she cut him off softly, "Uh...just a second...with Spike..." she  
glanced at Angel briefly, "alone..."  
Angel glanced between the uncomfortable pair, again wondering what all  
had changed while he'd been gone, before deciding it best he didn't know. He  
leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on her forehead and whispered in her  
ear, needing her to know he'd be all right with this, "He'll be good for  
you." He pulled back and she gazed at his expression of a sort of sweet  
sorrow with her own incredulous eyes. He smiled once again softly and then  
smirked towards Spike who was shooting mental stakes at him,  
"Evening, junior," he turned and walked to the door.  
Buffy turned and faced an unusually quiet Spike. She softly cleared her  
throat to make sure she had his attention.  
"Uh...I'm only...I'm only saying this once," she ran her tongue over her  
lips nervously while he gazed at her. She didn't know when his eyes were so  
blue, or when his features began expressing such powerful emotion  
*liar...screamed her brain*, but she did know it was his fault her stomach  
was rolling.  
"Thank you," she stopped, unable to think of anything better to say. He  
dropped his gaze and let his eyes fall shut.  
He didn't know about when he'd have his one good day, but he'd  
definitely had one hell of a night. One minute he saw  
billions........ok....thousands...of stakes flying in his not-so-welcome  
direction and the next Buffy was standing before him. Sure, his hand was  
throbbing and his muscles ached, but Buffy was back. She had thanked him. And  
Buffy was back. She wasn't mad at him for lettin' her down with the Nibblet.  
And Buffy was back. And that Belvedere guy had said he did "Very well. Even  
better than that 'Angel' chap who visited us a bit ago." And Buffy was back.  
And he'd rub it in his sire's face for months that he'd brought her back.  
And Buffy was breathing and living and standing right before him and very  
much BACK. Oh yeah. Unlife couldn't possibly get better.  
He felt her soft lips tentatively graze his.  
Ok, he could live with being wrong.  
He gently leaned into the kiss, giving anything to her while asking  
nothing in return.  
She pulled back, but stayed close, staring into his eyes with her face  
flushed.  
Spike smiled gently,  
"Don't rush it, luv. We've got time now. This can wait," he started to  
move away, knowing the others were wondering by now. She stopped him, laying  
her hand on his forearm.  
"I saw everything," he eyes questioned her, "What happened after  
I...I..jumped and you helping Dawn and everyone while I was gone, and...and  
the trials..."  
He gazed at her intently, "And that's why I thanked you," disappointment  
clouded his eyes. If that's what the kiss was for she could take it back. He  
could have sworn there had been something more...  
"That's why I thanked you," she interrupted his thoughts, nervously  
wringing her hands, "but I kissed you because..."  
Oh she definitely had his attention now,  
"Because..." he prompted her after a moment. Her eyes darted around,  
looking for the right words, before she returned his gaze,  
"I missed you." She turned on the words and walked through the magic shop  
door to delay whatever conversation her honestly would bring up. She needed  
time. He respected that.  
She missed him. He could live with that. He could hear Dawn shrieking and  
giggling within. Didn't love him. He could tell Red was bawling from what  
sound escaped the closed door. But missed him. He could imagine Harris, who  
had recently lost the nickname "whelp" in his eyes, and Giles sniffling like  
sods. It was a start - felt good to be missed. Could even imagine that  
brooding git complainin' about something in his eyes. Oh yeah. I'm nothin'  
like them, he thought, while brushing a few stray tears off his cheeks.  
They're bloody pathetic and I'm...he smiled.  
"I'm missed," he stated to no one in particular.  
He started to turn the knob to enter.  
Oh yeah. Unlife could be real good.  
  
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_  
Ah, Love! could thou and I with Fate conspire  
To grasp this sorry Scheme of Things entire,  
Would not we shatter it to bits - and then  
Re-mould it nearer to the Heart's Desire!_  
  
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END


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